lilac;

Shoko, after all, was cautious by nature and certainly not the sort of person that one could easily fool. She would never accept a substitute standing in your place, telling her that you wanted to withdraw from everything and everyone, nor would she have accepted it—if Choso did allow you to meet with her instead—if your words sounded too rehearsed. You hoped that he was put in his place when he realised he couldn’t fool her so easily, because you wanted him above all to take a step back from all of this and leave you alone.

Then, your stomach dropped altogether as you rounded a corner, the sight of them both coming into view. By sheer chance, you happened upon two familiar figures in the distance that you could clearly recognise, but they were locked in a fight against each other. It was so messy that your mind could almost not comprehend what it was looking at, before you forced yourself to look again. There was Choso, yes, you could unfortunately recognise his silhouette well enough by now, but also Shoko, too, though her hair was everywhere, lightly concealing her face. Her head was caught in his grip, leaving you to finally understand that something urgent was happening.

God. Had you gone the other way—if you had taken any other turn before getting here—you would have left Shoko completely at his mercy—or lack thereof. Panic surged within you at the very thought, and without thinking it through, a sudden urge to intervene guided you closer towards them both. You ran at them from behind, throwing yourself into trying to wrench him off of her, and when that immediately failed, you next tried to wedge yourself in between them both to pry them apart.

Shoko’s eyes widened from the moment she saw you, looking all desperate and breathless from the effort of wrestling out of his grip. Choso, on the other hand, did not register you right away. He shoved you down as if you were a mere obstacle with a brutal throw, only understanding a moment later what he had done at all. He, too, had to take a second to process what he was seeing. For one, you were no longer in the van where he had left you, and somehow, by sheer coincidence, you managed to find him in a situation he did not want to be in to begin with.

The second he understood that he might have hurt you, his hands fell away from Shoko, who, despite herself, lurched to distance you from him altogether, dropping to her knees beside you and pulling you back with her.

Choso froze at the sight, his hands curling into fists as he tried to calm himself down.

“You’re okay?” Shoko asked you at once. “You’re not hurt anywhere?”

You were still trying to catch your breath as you replied, your stomach in pain from where his hand had connected, but also from the burst of adrenaline. “I’m fine,” you panted out. “Ar—Are you?”

Shoko nodded, and relief settled in you, but then you flinched at the looming figure still standing right beside you both, understanding all too well that this was not over just yet.

“You have to understand,” he started, trying to keep his voice as level as he could possibly manage, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone to begin with, but things have gotten very, very complicated.”

Shoko let out a strained laugh over the audacity of his reasoning. “Complicated?” she repeated. “You attacked me.”

“Because you were going to report me,” Choso reasoned, quick to justify himself. “I know what I’m doing is wrong, I’m not denying that, but I can’t help but—” he broke off, his hands now trembling at his sides. “I can’t help what I want, and it makes me act—”

“What you want?” you suddenly broke out, turning on him to cast a look that was almost pleading. “What about what I want?” you asked him, because with everything that had happened so far, you had been barely given a chance to fend for yourself at all, let alone get a word out that you weren’t interested in him in the same way he was with you. “I don’t want any of this, so why are you putting me through literal hell?”

Choso took a small step forward, and Shoko let out a sharp, defensive sound of protest as he did. She hated how helpless she felt, and you hated it too, because nothing seemed to be getting through to him.

“I can’t explain it well at all,” he continued, trying to make himself both look and sound less imposing, less threatening, “but it’s just… I really do want what’s best for you,” he insisted, his eyes fixed on yours. “I’m very bad at showing it, I won’t deny that, but if you just let me take care of you, then I can take you away from all of this… the stress, the obstacles, the—” he suddenly stopped, his expression falling from pleading to heartbroken when he saw the frightened look on your face. “Please don’t look at me like that. I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You hesitated, but before you could reject him once more, Shoko misinterpreted your reaction as pity.

“Don’t you dare feel bad for him,” she hissed, yanking your arm back. “He’s unwell. Can’t you see that?”

“That’s not what I—” you gasped out.

Choso cut in at once, sending the opening while he still had it. “How about this, then? If you come with me without making even more of a scene, then your friend doesn’t have to die.”

That much worked to cease the bickering between you both, but in the worst possible way.

Shoko froze. “What?”

“W-wait, wait, what do you me—” you started as well, your words landing messily as panic gripped you.

“I’m sorry,” Choso stopped you both, shaking his head and looking genuinely pained by the whole thing. “I really am so sorry, but I can’t just let you go freely. You would alert the police, and I’ll be in even more trouble,” he sighed, considering his options. “But… I can let you go somewhere else. Where I decide.”

Shoko paused, not feeling too great about what Choso must have meant about somewhere else. She looked around her, shooting you a charged, desperate look. “Wait. There’s only one of him. Two of us. If we split up, then we can—”

Choso, however, did not seem at all interested in a chase. He wanted to do right by you, but in his attempt to do so, he had landed himself in a situation that was difficult to get out of. He needed to retake control and figure out how to put a lid on this whole mess without attracting even more unwanted attention. He ended up moving decisively to grab you, provoking Shoko to suddenly lunge forward in an attempt to keep you away from him, pulling you back, but he was still much stronger. He took you back as soon as he had a good hold on you, hauling you over his shoulder with one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady.

Then, as Shoko started to pull away, a soft whine of fear leaving her lips, he drove down to prevent her escape before she could get too far. He drove her down beneath his boot, crushing the air out of her lungs, then crouched down to reassume the chokehold, dragging you both back in the direction he arrived from. He didn’t care if there were witnesses or how horrible this must have looked because all he cared about right there and then was getting you both away and to a location where he could control the outcome.

“Don’t scream,” he muttered under his breath to you. “Don’t scream if you want her to live. You’ll stay quiet, okay?”

You tried to stifle your sobs as he spoke, but the tears kept on rolling anyway, making the swaying ground blur as he walked. Your breathing turned uneven as you tried to keep awake, but the panic rose too fast, and then you couldn’t help but pass out. Everything felt awful, stressed and scary; of course, you couldn’t handle it. Of course, you passed out.

~~~

When you next came around, you woke up to find yourself back in the van, but this time it was moving. It was the soft rattling sound that awoke you, but otherwise it was dark inside. The door was no longer as open as it had been before, and somewhere in the cramped space, you could hear a strained noise nearby.

As you blinked, you tilted your head up, coming to meet with Shoko from across you, lying on her side, tied up and gagged. Her dark eyes were fixed on yours, and she tried to shuffle forward, but it was almost impossible to do so given the bumpy ride.

All you could do was just lie in the pained silence otherwise, until, after what felt like far too long, the van gradually slowed down. Judging by the transition from a solid road onto a softer surface, and from the smell of salt drifting in through the narrow gap of the doors, you guessed you were by the sea. The ocean was nearby, and you could hear heavy waves crashing.

Once the van had stopped and Choso had gotten out, a cold sense of unease gripped you once more. His footsteps were muted, and it sounded as though sand was being kicked beneath his feet, which made sense given the location, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why he had brought you both here.

When he opened the doors, you could barely see him as it was now night. Choso could see you, though. He looked momentarily relieved to see you awake, but then, as his attention moved to Shoko, any softness in his eyes had hardened at once.

“You were unconscious, so I suppose you didn’t hear me before,” he started, his voice grim, “but the plan is to leave her somewhere around here.”

Choso looked around, leaning away from the van, keeping his hands curled around the doors. “Alive, of course,” he added softly, “but that won’t last long. Not if the tide is high tonight.”

His eyes moved sideways again, towards the beach. The sand there was already damp in places, still visible under the moonlight, but only time stood between that spot and the water. If he walked Shoko out pretty far into the coast, then the ocean could take her.

“If she manages to get loose, though, then I’ll respect it,” he continued.

You looked like you wanted to speak, and Choso paused, stepping into the van to let you try.

“There’s nobody out here,” he said, looking around again as he peeled away the tape from your skin. “I drove around twice to be sure. You can scream, but nobody will hear you.”

He then exhaled through his nose, sounding almost tired. “I… I really don’t like doing things like this, you know? I don’t like hurting people. I don’t like making them suffer because of what I’ve done,” he continued, his jaw tightening with each word. “I just… I just can’t help myself. I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this around anyone, so no, I can’t explain it, but… I just feel better when you’re around me. That’s all.”

You tried to repeat your earlier plea. “What about what I want?” you asked.

Choso looked at you, but he didn’t answer you, and instead, he stepped back, dragging Shoko out by the rope, his jaw set tight so he didn’t have to say anything else. He left you behind in the van, still tied up, then lowered her onto the sand, taking a brief look toward the horizon yet again.

“The temperatures get pretty low,” he spoke in a low murmur, more to himself than her, as if to justify the horror of what he was about to commit. “It’ll probably be the cold that gets to you first, but don’t worry, I read that it’s like… going to sleep. First, your body goes numb, and then the rest catches up.”

Shoko could only stare at him, her eyes wide.

As Choso looked at her, though, he started to get second thoughts about this whole thing. He considered untying her, but he thought better of it. The most he allowed himself to do was to also remove the tape from her lips, figuring that she at least deserved a few last words.

Shoko, however, was already straining against the bindings, close to wriggling free, but she knew better than to run away so soon. She had to do so when he thought she was gone, so she could save you both.

It had hit you so suddenly that you could hardly process it; so bright and blinding that the intensity made you feel almost irritated. That’s probably how you knew you were back again, because annoyance was a side effect of existing, and though you had little desire to chase life again, an unseen force pushed you towards the light. Eventually, you found yourself reaching out to grab onto something solid again, finding that this time there was something to hold onto. Fabric?

When the light cleared, you realised you were holding onto someone, not just something.

You stared with your mouth agape, unable to produce any words at all, only to stumble back out of embarrassment. You started to speak, an apology forming at your lips, but just as quickly, your hands moved to silence yourself. That was not how you remembered sounding, but then again, everything else about you felt wrong to some degree. Somehow, the way you breathed felt different, and when your hands fell into your line of sight, you flinched, not recognising them at all.

The person before you had painted a strange image, too, though, seeming awfully familiar.

In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to get a good look at them. Were they cosplaying a character, maybe? It certainly seemed to be someone you recognised, at the very least.

An even more humiliating thought surfaced, and you wondered if you had experienced a heat stroke at a convention or something similar. Were you clinging to a stranger? No, you couldn’t have been. You were dying, weren’t you? So this wasn't that, but the person before you was still dressed as someone you knew. Geto, maybe, from the looks of it? Or, wait, no. Of course not. The stitches on his forehead made it all rather obvious; this was Kenjaku.

You hovered around, wanting to look at him for a bit longer, but for whatever reason, whoever this person was, legitimately gave you the creeps. The scarring on his forehead looked much too real. It could have just been convincing prosthetic makeup, but there was something else to it. The robes might have been the second hint, looking far from cheap, but it was also the way the hair sat, being close to what you imagined Kenjaku being like: long, dark strands that once had a shine, that had ended up dull under his negligence.

“Sorry,” you found yourself blurting out, taking a shaky step back, still feeling thrown off by the sound of your own voice. You struggled to speak again for a second before pushing through the wrongness. “Did… Did I bump into you? My bad.”

The man before you gave you a small, quiet scoff, but then his lips smoothed over into a smile. “Bump into me?” he repeated, his voice a perfect fit. “Oh my, you did so much more than that,” he corrected you, genuine intrigue entering his tone. “You materialised out of thin air.”

You swallowed hard at his admission, not understanding why his response bothered you so greatly. Your eyelids fluttered, fixating on the ground rather than making eye contact with him, and you felt nauseous when you tried to do so. You had no idea what he meant, and yet, at the same time, you understood the gist of what he was talking about perfectly well. It felt exactly as he had described: that you just popped into existence in a place you shouldn’t be, in a body that wasn’t yours.

“...Materialised?” you finally managed.

An amused hum left him. “Oh yes, out of thin air at that,” he confirmed, his voice all smooth and calm, sounding almost conversational. He regarded you for a second longer, noting the vacant look on your face and then a thought entered his mind. “Do you even have any idea of where you are? Let alone who you are?”

You found yourself freezing at the way he worded his questions, because of course you knew you were. You were—you were—wait. Wait. You were someone before all of this, weren’t you? Even if those memories now felt awfully distant, you were still at some point in time someone. You even remembered dying, thinking about the most mundane things as you did so. Something about not being able to watch the next season of that thing you liked. Something about forgetting to take your bedding off for laundry. Something about, whatever, really. You didn’t really think about regrets or accomplishments or anything else of the sort, just random tidbits of what made up your recent existence.

Perhaps that’s all this was, then. Maybe the man before you wasn’t dressed up in that sense, but this was the imagining of someone you liked from a fictional world as your mind’s attempt to help you through those last moments. You read something like that before, didn’t you? Something about those before-death dreams felt oddly real to help your body close up shop.

You might have still been dying, then.

Somehow, the thought didn’t terrify you as much as it should have.

Even if you were… still… drowning(?)

Then, at last, you finally managed to look up and make eye contact with him properly that time, finding that yes, this was exactly who your mind had conjured up. Kenjaku. An odd choice for some, but you always did find his character strangely comforting. Villains like him couldn’t have been real in your world, so you could enjoy the way his character was written from the safe distance of reality. Though if you had to admit, the way you had imagined him was surely unsettling. You almost did it too well.

“I’m… actually not too sure who I am right now,” you started, hoping that speaking to what you thought was your imagination might prompt it to give you hints.

“Not too sure?” he repeated. “What an unusual answer,” he added with a light laugh.

You frowned at the lack of insight, still blaming your mind. “Well, yes, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Kenjaku pursed his lips in deep thought, his head tilting slowly as he studied you with open interest. “Understandable,” he supposed, offering you a light shrug. You did seem confused, yes, but the way you kept on looking at him was something that got under his skin in a way that he could not properly identify. People recognising the vessel he occupied—Geto—was more common, but the way you looked at him went deeper than just mere recognition.

He found himself taking a step closer, suddenly overcome with the urge to investigate that hunch.

“But, it’s quite odd, really,” he mused, lifting a thumb under your chin, forcing you to meet with his gaze, “you seem to know me, don’t you?”

“Well… you’re obviously Geto, right?” you replied, trying to shake your head away from his reach and failing to do so. “Or maybe… Kenjaku? I mean, you have the stitches, so that makes more sense. I even thought you were cosplaying him at first before I realised this must be some sort of weird dream my mind is conjuring up before I die,” you concluded with an awkward laugh. Maybe if you brought it up out loud, then your mind would follow the way you kept on wanting it to.

Kenjaku, however, simply blinked at your words. The smile on his face faded into something far more focused and far less casual than before. “Cosplaying?” he caught. “You believe that I’m dressed up as someone? Like a character?” he asked, his fingers snapping in delight from the moment the observation settled in. “How interesting!” he beamed. “And you believe me to be fictional, yes?” he found himself asking, not discounting the possibility that you truly believed what you were talking about. He was open-minded after all, and after a momentary reflection upon his own life and ideals, could recognise his very existence as odd, to say the least.

You tried to pull yourself away from him, managing to succeed, but not getting very far in the process, for your back had collided with a rough, brick wall.

“Do tell me,” he pressed on, his tone lightening once more, “do you believe that I come from a specific place? If so, where? Or better yet, what is it called?” he asked, sounding much too curious for his own good. Again, he was happy to consider all sorts of possibilities. His own life, ideas, and everything else, just as he pondered in an earlier thought, did indeed seem bizarre, and the world around him did feel unfinished. It was actually from the moment you showed up that he felt as if he could finally think for himself—if properly at all—which was a matter that should be investigated as soon as possible.

“J-Jujutsu Kaisen?” you hesitantly replied, feeling a little silly from having to say it out loud.

Kenjaku nodded, but not without producing a breath of a scoff, as if he found the name unimpressive. “I see,” he only said, then, before you could reply, he moved once more to conduct a simple, harmless experiment. His fingers curled ever so slightly, aiming to push you back against the wall you were already lined up against, with an unseen shove.

His head tilted again, although this time to the other side. His dark eyes sharpened in intensity, but his voice softened, making it sound almost intimate in nature.

“Does this feel fictional to you?” he asked.

Just out of instinct, and from a deep-set sceptical refusal rooted deep within you, you attempted to laugh off his question in an attempt to mask your unease. Though when you tried to move forward, although there was nothing visibly preventing you from pressing ahead, it was as if some unseen force was keeping you physically grounded. Like an invisible wall that you could feel, but not see.

This was definitely still a dream, right?

It had to be.

If you ‘woke up’ in a body that wasn’t your own, right in front of your favourite character, then there was nothing else to it, even if this all did feel strangely real. Dreams, however, were often paced differently, which must have been what was throwing you off. Any discomfort that surfaced was allowed to fester and would not move on as swiftly as dreams would often do so. Everything was slowly moving, as if it were happening in the present. Just like it would feel in reality. That was the weirdest part for you.

“I mean, yes, it’s still fictional,” you stubbornly insisted, brainstorming out loud. “Even if I’m only dreaming, the world you’re from is still make-believe, not that any of that matters considering I’m probably dying somewhere,” you added as an almost bitter afterthought. “This is all to make it easier on me, most likely…”

You took in a deep breath as he watched you, feeling more confident in his presence now that you thought you had an idea of what was going on.

“Like, yeah, of course, in my final moments, I probably would want to be stuck in a surreal nightmare or whatever this is with my favourite character,” you laughed. “It just makes sense, right? Why else would any of this be happening at all?”

Kenjaku went still as once again he caught onto a core detail.

“Oh?” he interjected. “I’m your favourite character?” he asked, sounding close to delighted. “This just keeps on getting better! And, just to confirm, you still believe this to be some sort of dream, correct?”

He leaned in at once, barely giving you room to breathe.

“Do tell,” he continued, his voice taking on a frantic, if not urgent tone, sounding very much excited. “Do you know how I die? I mean. I’m most likely the villain in this story of yours, aren’t I?” he asked proudly “The amount of spoilers you must carry is incredible, really. You can predict my very history before it’s ever begun,” he mused, already seeing the potential of your existence, if you were telling the truth that was. Even if you weren’t, and you were just someone who had gone mad, he would be a fool to discount such a golden opportunity.

Though just as his excitement had reached its peak, your vision began to blur before you could even respond at all. The whole world before you began to tilt, and your thoughts had long grown distant. You barely had any time to realise what was happening at all before your body gave out completely.

All Kenjaku, in contrast, did was just blink, almost reacting a moment too slow before he clocked that you were about to fall, moving to catch you before you did. A soft, pained grunt left him as he hoisted you up to his chest, following up with a small, annoyed frown. It was far too exposed for you to go and faint like this, let alone for you to show up at all. He shuddered briefly at the thought of the right people finding you first. That six-eyes brat from the Gojo clan had come to mind. He thanked his lucky stars that he was the one who found you first.

He clicked his tongue as he weighed out his options. Obviously, he couldn’t just leave you out here and wait for you to wake up, especially since he didn’t know when that would be at all. Besides that, it just looked odd. He needed to safely stash you away somewhere else for the time being and conduct an investigation of his own accord. After all, if you were telling the truth and if there truly was a world out there that had written his existence off as mere fiction, then you potentially sat over a trove of information that could change his fate entirely.

It was then that his eyes drifted towards the entrance of a nearby apartment building, and a new idea formed. With just a little force, he could get inside, take over a unit at random, and have you remain safely out of sight for the time being, at the cost of, well, someone’s life, he supposed, but sacrifices were sometimes necessary for great success.

He laughed softly to himself as he started towards such a place with you in tow, already vibrating with anticipation for what was yet to come.

He felt flattered, really.

A fan, then.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered to yourself; your words a messy, hurried mantra as you tried everything all at once. You pulled at the door handles; you tried to rotate yourself right around to force your heels against the windows, kicking them repeatedly, and though no alarm went off, nothing budged either.

Then, as you were in the midst of thrashing, a panel in the back gave out, its clanging against the van floor so loud it forced you to pause. You chanced retreated back there anyway, because what if? Slipping through the panel was easy work; it was just big enough to fit you. You pulled yourself through it, landing right on your hands and knees, coughing from the impact. Goodness. It was dusty back there.

When your vision adjusted to the darker stretch of the vehicle, you made the observation that the double-sided door was not locked properly, or at the very least, that it was damaged. A faint gap allowed a small amount of light to pass through. Towards the side of the vehicle, you spotted the glint of a gardening tool that appeared to be a rake tossed onto the flooring. You found yourself scrambling towards it with a surge of desperation, moving the teeth of the tool at an angle, then leaning against the handle with all of your might until you heard something creak.

You found yourself praying to yourself that you would get out of this somehow. For the most part, it seemed to be working, too. You felt great as it happened. What was this feeling? Adrenaline, maybe? You simply refused to accept the direction you were trapped in. You were not something to be stolen and then kept away from the world. You wanted to live and be free, and above all, be the one in control of it!

The metal began to crack open, but then just as it did, the wooden length of the handle began to split.

You ended up landing face-first onto the grimy surface, a broken, bitter, if not hysterical laugh escaping you as you did. The rest of you broke into tears, unable to grasp the absurdity of it all, and yet, understanding all the same that, of course, it was never going to be that easy.

Surely, though, this… this couldn’t have been it?

Just as quickly as the motivation appeared, it vanished within a split second, replacing itself with a horrible, profound sense of failure that rooted right into you.

God, to think that you risked Shoko to change nothing at all.

~~~

Choso left you in the van reluctantly, coming to stare at the brick wall that faced him as soon as he had stepped out. Things had gotten far too complicated, he could admit that, and yet, if he wanted to succeed, he knew that it wasn’t ever going to be as simple as he had planned it out in his head. People would eventually ask questions about your appearance, and oftentimes, they started with people like their neighbours. He knew that if it came around to that, he would fold right away.

Though another part of himself forced him to start walking towards the direction of the park anyway, his limbs feeling stiff as he did so. His jaw clenched tightly, and just once, he paused when he heard a struggle break out where he had left you behind. The front of the interior would hold, so that much was fine. As long as you gave up and stayed where you were. Honestly, the threat of putting you in the back was largely a bluff. It was the one spot where it risked going wrong. The van in itself was just good enough—but barely—for what it was, but that thing was falling apart.

He forced himself to march on faster, just to get back to you sooner. The area was a bit out of the way, and he knew that he would likely not get away with anything too rash out in the open. Every now and then, a sound from further away in the area would carry over to where he was, and he would jump, which already painted an anxious picture. Any hint of a struggle from where he was might be heard not too far away. Besides that, he dreaded to imagine what that friend of yours might clock him as. If she saw through him right away, and as he approached what must have been her, something even stranger happened.

He… froze. He tried to speak, but couldn’t, finding that his words died in his throat when he tried. Something about his plan to remove obstacles that prevented him from being together with you was something he struggled with deeper down. He even tried lifting both of his hands to imagine the possibility of strangling her on a whim, but the sensation that followed must have been a phantom one, since his limbs did not budge.

He forced himself to say something once more, though his voice still sounded quiet. If Shoko wasn’t on edge, she might not have heard him.

“Shoko, right?” he mumbled out.

Shoko turned around, narrowing her eyes at the sight of the nervous wreck before her. She leaned in—reluctantly—to catch what was barely heard. “Yeah,” she replied with a more level tone. “Is she okay?” she asked, cutting to the chase right away. “It’s not like her to disappear.”

Choso forced a laugh out in an attempt to lower the tension, hoping to convey that everything was fine. “Yeah, she’s okay. She just needed some time away from all of the stress,” he tried to say, his words far from convincing. His fingers pulled at his sleeves as he spoke, not quite understanding why he felt so nervous around her, and calmer around you. Perhaps it was because he hated this idea in particular. He did not want to hurt you, and getting rid of this person that you cared about would be doing that.

Shoko hummed thoughtfully. “Even so,” she caught, crossing her arms, resisting the urge to pull a cigarette out from her pocket to mask her own anxiety, “she wouldn’t just leave without letting me know. She wouldn’t send someone else to speak for her either. I know her.”

“I’m also close to her,” Choso lied. “We’re old friends,” he tried to add, not yet disclosing the true nature of their relationship, even though Shoko must have known. The text he sent was a futile attempt at best; she likely understood what she was getting into from the moment she received it. “She’s just a bit overwhelmed with everything, and she’ll be back soon.”

Shoko silently scoffed, the corners of her lips twitching. “Old friends?” she repeated in a disbelieving tone. “Oh, that’s funny. She told me she grew up quite alone, and she doesn’t seem like the type to lie.”

Shoko took a wary step back as she spoke, her posture becoming less open and far more guarded.

“And,” she continued, “close?” she repeated once more, trying to deduce everything he was giving her. “Do you know what her major is?” she asked, largely as a question of security. If he knew you, then he should know that little thing.

Choso gulped nervously, but his eyes darkened considerably. Irritation started to surface, causing him to feel erratic. He was one hundred percent certain that this person knew what he was up to, hence why she was so quick to interrogate him, and as such, felt something regretful rising from within him. He tried to hold back because again, he didn't want to hurt you, and that meant mentally just as much as it did physically.

He risked you hating him even more if he lost his temper, but that would be only if you ever found out.

“Sure do,” he confirmed, then before she could grill him further, he asked her just as quickly, “Do you?”

Shoko took a step back, and he took a step forward.

“I could take you to see her if you’d like,” he offered, his words landing steadier now, “prove to you that she’s just fine.”

Shoko, however, just stared at him, her eyes wandering around just once or twice to scan the park. It wasn’t crowded, but the distant sounds proved that at least some parts were at the very least occupied. She knew that following him would be a mistake, even if there were witnesses.

“Sure, if she meets me at our usual spot,” she replied very carefully. “She’ll know where.”

Choso forced a stiff smile. “Sounds good,” he said, his voice a little too calm. “I’ll go back then and let her know that you’re willing to meet her if she’s up for it at all.”

“Right,” Shoko agreed, watching him turn to leave and walk a considerable number of steps away from her before she started to do the same, but then she stopped when she could no longer hear his footsteps. A shudder ran through her spine as she started to turn around, but before she knew it, warm hands found their way around both her face to silence any screams and something more solid wrapped right around her throat, squeezing the life from her.

She thrashed as much as she could, but to get out of this alive, she needed a miracle.

~~~

Back in the van, after what seemed like forever of messing around with the faulty lock and the tiny gap between the doors, something finally gave out. You ended up stumbling out onto the concrete as it happened, landing roughly onto the concrete just outside, grazing your knees in the process. The area he had you in was desolate, but not fully.

You looked around, feeling the adrenaline return, feeling the sudden, horrible urge to bolt.

At least while you still could.